After We've Said Goodbye
by Carolyn984
Summary: CHAPTER 12 FINALLLLLLYYYYYY UP! Susannah starts college alone, six months after Jesse's disappearance.
1. Anew

After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 1  
  
By Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com  
  
Disclaimer: Just the plot is mine.  
  
A/N: This is kind of a continuation of, um, all the stories I've posted on here. I hadn't originally planned it to be like that, but the way I started it, it just kind of worked out that way. So, I'd recommend reading my other stories first, if you want to have a better background on what happened. In order, they go: 1- It's Not Always Rainbows & Butterflies, and 2- Bright Lights. Enjoy!  
  
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Ahh, college life. Parent-free, step-brother-free, college life. Ask any normal college student what they do on any given night of the week, and the answers are endless and seemingly worry free: clubs, bars, parties, and the infamous keggers. Carousing on the town, ignoring your parents' encouragements on move-in day to 'keep up with your work,' and to 'remember, studies first, fun later.' Forget high school, college was supposed to be the best four years of your life.  
  
Right. Which is why you can find me in my dorm room, swiffering the floor.  
  
Exciting, huh?  
  
Don't get me wrong; I actually do have a social life. I have met plenty of people since starting here at NoCal (yes, the same school Sleepy attends, only I live on campus) in the spring semester.  
  
That's right. Spring semester. I took half the year off after graduation (which, might I add, is a whole other story I'd prefer not to indulge in. Let's just say that public speeches, not my thing to begin with, tend to get somewhat, um, "altered" spontaneously when I, class president, am interrupted during said speech, and that these alterations are typically not of the complimentary sort toward the ignorant jerks who chose to interrupt) and told my mom and Andy that I wanted to "save up" before starting such an expensive endeavor as college.  
  
Really, though, I didn't want to leave just yet. Not like I'd be able to focus, anyway.  
  
Not with Jesse disappearing the way he did.  
  
You'd think I wouldn't be able to wait to get out of that house, right? I mean, why would I want to spend another second in that place, that room, with all the memories of what we used to have?  
  
Well, simple: I didn't believe it. The fact that he was gone, I mean. I still expected to wake up each morning and find him sitting there on the window seat, greeting me with the occasional "Good morning, Querida" as he tended to do so often in those final days. It was almost as if he -knew- that his time was coming, because pretty much every time I was in my room, so was he, even though technically he lived in the rectory. He always seemed to be there whenever I stepped through the door. Not that I minded. Quite the contrary.  
  
But yeah, I took the fall semester off, to "earn some cash" back at Pebble Beach, when in reality all I wanted to do was curl up and die. At least then, I'd get to see Jesse again.  
  
I, however, am not quite that suicidal, nor do I give up that easily. I mean, I loved him, and as far as I knew (although he never flat came out and said it), he loved me, so why shouldn't there be some way where we'd be together again? There had to be, right?  
  
Wrong.  
  
At least, my splendid notion has failed me for these past six months. I haven't seen him since a few weeks after graduation. I mean, I knew that when I went off to college, I wouldn't see Jesse as much, but. . . well, to *never* see him again? That was just too much to deal with. . .  
  
So anyway, such has been the story of my life since that fateful day last July. Although I still had Jesse's miniature and his handkerchief (which, of course, no one but me and Father Dominic, and Paul I guess, if you want to be technical, could see), obviously it wasn't enough. And besides, it's not like I could carry around his picture and be like, Hey, look, this is my dead boyfriend. Quite a looker, isn't he?  
  
Honestly. People might talk if they knew I carried around the portrait of some guy who was murdered over one hundred fifty years ago, who to any logical mind, I had never even met. Well, that and the fact that I shouldn't even *have* the picture to begin with, it being a historical artifact and all. Obviously so, I had to keep the miniature hidden.  
  
So, stashed in my bottom drawer, underneath my Math History and Computer Science textbooks (since clearly no one would want to look there), and between the pages of my Spanish-that's right, Spanish-notebook, I kept the only existing replica of the love of my life. Pathetic, isn't it? I can't even tell you how much I wanted to burst out in tears when we went over terms of endearment in my introductory Spanish class, and of course, the word 'querida' was on the list. I came pretty darn close to it. To tears, I mean. It wasn't pretty.  
  
On top of my desk, which was underneath my bunk-style bed to save room, was a lamp, my computer, and a turquoise betta fish that my mom bought me to 'keep me company.' A nice gesture, I guess. Aside from having to clean it's 2-gallon tank every month, it was kind of nice to have around. I hung handfuls of pictures from the bars holding my bed up, so when I sat at my desk they'd dangle overhead. It was really nice, actually, to just sit there and look at pictures of me with Adam, and Cee Cee, and Gina, and my Mom and step-dad, and even my step-brothers. There was a picture of me and my dad, too, taken about a month or so before he died when I was six. And then there were prom pictures.  
  
Prom. Jesse had come to my prom. Not that there were pictures of him there, or anything, but he was there. Completely unexpectedly. He didn't even tell Father Dom, and he saved me from the nuisance that was in the form of Paul Slater, bringing me down this elegantly decorated path that the Ecology Club had organized. And he kissed me.  
  
And, he told me that he would never leave, that he was here in the living world because he was supposed to be with me. Hah.  
  
I had believed him then, too. How stupid of me.  
  
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© 2004 by Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com 


	2. Hope

After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 2  
  
Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com  
  
A/N: Like I've said before, this could be considered a continuation of my other fics on here, or it could work as a stand-alone, too. Whichever you prefer. ;-)  
  
"You used to captivate me by your resonating light  
  
Now I'm bound by the life you've left behind  
  
Your face, it haunts my once-pleasant dreams  
  
Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me. . ." –Evanescence  
  
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You wanna know something about my life?  
  
It sucks. A lot.  
  
I'm not even kidding. You try writing an essay on the importance of mathematical analysis and the Cartesian co-ordinate system (A/N: Something I actually had to do last semester! =P) while simultaneously trying to keep your mind far, far from the place and person it so desperately wants to be consumed with. It's not easy.  
  
Especially since you've thought every possible, conceivable contemplation about that person, oh, say, sixteen *thousand* times since the day he left. No wonder why I have déjà vu so much.  
  
The thing is, it makes me angry. Really, really angry. Like, punch-the- wall, pull-out-your-hair, scream-'til-your-throat-bleeds angry. Like that.  
  
But of course, if I did punch the wall, I'd probably break my hand on the stupid cinder blocks that it consists of. How hard would it be for me to type my essay, then? Besides, even though the ghost-busting business has been somewhat slow since I started college, what if I needed to use aforesaid fists to kick a little unruly ghost butt? You just never know about those things. They pop up when you least expect them.  
  
Of course, and then they disappear when you least want them to. But that's a whole different story.  
  
Okay! Rene Descartes created the Cartesian co-ordinate system to allow for equations and their corresponding geometrical pictures to be expressed and interchanged at a 1:1 ratio...  
  
Right. I am so not into this, I can't even tell you.  
  
God. Why does college have to *suck* so much? I mean, I'm *paying* to go here. Shouldn't it be, like, a vacation or something? Why would I pay thousands of dollars to write essays? Essays that, quite frankly, I don't care about, nor do I understand? It's so unfair.  
  
Well, at least I don't have my stupid stepbrothers to worry about any more. Well, okay, I kind of miss David, and Jake goes here too, but I don't have any classes with him, or anything. Not that Jake is a bad guy. Brad was the only one I really had a problem with, and luckily for me, he attended the local community college, in hopes of transferring to UCLA next year and joining the wrestling team. Whatever.  
  
God, I can get off on such a tangent when I put my mind to it. Tangent. Oh, great. My math history paper. Tangent, secant, sine, cosine...  
  
Someone, please. Shoot me now. Put me out of my misery. This is excruciating.  
  
Well, for once, my wish was granted. Someone put me out of my misery.  
  
"Susannah..."  
  
The only person on this earth who could.  
  
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© 2004 by Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com 


	3. Reunion

After We've Said Goodbye chapter 3  
  
By Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com  
  
"I will go down with this ship  
  
I won't put my hands up and surrender  
  
There will be no white flag above my door  
  
I'm in love, and always will be. . ." Dido, "White Flag"  
  
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Okay, to say I was "surprised" would have been a massive, colossal understatement. Try completely, totally, knocked out of my socks. It was probably a good thing that I wasn't on my bunk bed, because I probably would've toppled right off. For a few moments, I swear I couldn't breathe. My heart stopped.  
  
"Oh... oh, my God..."  
  
Jesse. Jesse was *here*. *Jesse* was HERE.  
  
Tangent, secant, cosecant—who the hell cares?  
  
"Hello, Querida."  
  
Words were not forthcoming, I'd like to inform you. I mean, thousands, and I mean thousands, of times, I have sit here, plaguing my mind over what I would say if he ever somehow came back to me, and here I was, completely at a loss. Oh God, Suze... say *something*. . .  
  
"How. . . what are you doing here?"  
  
Okay, now that was definitely not in the script. I mean, 'what are you doing here?' For God's sake! Way to make a guy feel welcome. Sometimes I think all those concussions I've gotten must have done some permanent damage. I. Am. So. Stupid.  
  
"I mean. . . Jesse. . . ho—"  
  
"Shh, Susannah. . . it is not important," he said quietly, placing a long tan finger over my lips. His dark, omniscient eyes locked into mine, and something passed through us. I don't know what, but it was definitely something. All that bottled up passion and longing that had been trapped for the past six months spilled out through our eyes.  
  
And then I had to go and do something that, looking back at it now, I realize most definitely spoiled what should have been a wonderful, spectacular moment of reunion.  
  
"Not important?! Are you *joking*? Jesse, I haven't seen you. . . I mean, you've been gone for six months," not that I had been counting, or anything, "and now you're back and trying to tell me that it's not important?"  
  
Jesse sighed, taking his hand away. It so figures that when I find my voice, the inner Suze that likes to jump into confrontation has to surface and destroy what romantic Suze would like to savor and cherish. It so figures.  
  
"Susannah, it was not my choice. I would not have left if it were up to me. I was called."  
  
My first thought in my still-shocked state of mind was that he meant called on the telephone, and I felt kind of insulted that whoever called was more important than us, but then I realized that was so not what he meant. He meant called by, like, the astral plane, or whatever. Any antagonism that was in my voice before quickly shriveled up and died.  
  
"You. . . what happened?"  
  
Jesse opened his mouth to explain, but was interrupted.  
  
Okay, let me tell you something else about college. Unless you are willing and able to shell out a few extra hundred dollars per semester for a single room, you will have a roommate. This roommate can, and will, enter and leave the room at will (not yours, unfortunately), interrupting private moments with the ghost of the man whom you have not seen in over half a year. Who, might I add, was about to give you the explanation that you have been waiting for since the day he disappeared.  
  
Yeah, sharing a room with a dead guy, I can handle. A living, breathing teenage girl? Now that's a whole different box of crayons.  
  
"Hi, Suze," Laura greeted as she entered, tossing her Prada knock-off on her bed in exhaustion. "What's up?"  
  
I was numb. No, no no no *no*! Not now!  
  
She eyed me curiously when I didn't answer, and said, "Well, Phi Sig is having a mixer with TKE tomorrow night, if you want to go. I'm giving rides at nine."  
  
Phi Sig was Laura's sorority, and as usual on Thursday nights, they were having a party with one of the fraternities that they frequently got together with. Did I mention that frat parties and the like are not my thing? Aside from the fact that I don't drink, just the thought of them brings back too many awful memories of Dopey's hot tub party, which led to Paul and Jesse knocking the snot out of each other, a trip to the netherworld, and a destroyed china cabinet that I'm sure I'm still paying for, although no one knows it was my fault. Either way.  
  
"Um. . . maybe. I still have this essay to type," I managed to say, unable to tear my eyes away from Jesse, who was standing over me. He cast an impatient glance at my roommate, who showed no signs of leaving. As a matter of fact, she showed all intentions of getting changed into her pajamas and calling it a night early, if the way she grabbed her toothbrush and face wash and headed for the bathroom was any indication. I'm sure that, to Jesse, it was just like that week when Gina stayed with us all over again, except that my roommate wouldn't be leaving on Sunday. Nope, she was staying around.  
  
When she closed the door to the bathroom, which was connected to the room next to us, suite-style, I whispered to Jesse, "Meet me outside. . . at the, um. . ." I tried to think of a place that wouldn't be populated by my fellow college students at 10:38pm on a beautiful Wednesday night. That pretty much excluded any place outside. "Um. . . oh, meet me on the balcony down the hall."  
  
'Balcony' is a term I use loosely with the structure. It's more like ledge, actually, with a railing that I wouldn't trust my life with, and cracked tiles. Its unpleasant appearance was really the only reason that no one ever goes out on it, considering that the view it gives is actually quite spectacular, overlooking the ocean and all. I really think I'm the only one who ever goes out on it; to be honest, it reminded me of the view from my window seat at home, and well, can you blame me for having wanted to hold that close to me?  
  
With that, Jesse disappeared, casting his eyes sternly at me with a look that could only be described as relieved. One that told me that he, too, had been waiting, waiting for me as long as I have been for him.  
  
At last, at long, unbearable, impenetrable last, the wait was over.  
  
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Chapter 4 coming soon!  
  
© 2004 by Carolyn 


	4. Lifeline

After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 4  
  
Written by Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com  
  
A/N: So this last week has been a rough one for me, and next week isn't looking too hot school-wise. Hell week is fast approaching, so I guess it would be wise of me to post chapter four now, before I am swamped with work. It's been done for a while now, but I always like to wait until I get a chapter or two ahead before sending out another one. It gives me, I don't know, a space-cushion or something. I originally had planned to end it with this chapter but then I got new ideas and typed up chapter 5 just a few minutes ago. It'll be a while before you all get to read it though. ;- ) Without further ado, chapter four!  
  
For Coach Bennie, 1967-2004. Always in our Hearts.  
  
"I rise and fall, but through it all, this much remains. . ." Whitney Houston  
  
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Out of simple courtesy, I hollered to Laura that I was going down the hall for a little while to meet someone, and got a toothpaste-obstructed "o-tay" in response. I looked myself over in the mirror—with my hair straightened and grown long, and my skinned still lightly tanned, I must admit, I was looking quite fine. All I needed was a little dab of under-eye concealer and some lip gloss, and I'd be all set. I mean, I didn't want to look all frumpy the first time I saw Jesse in, like, forever. Honestly. I'm no fool.  
  
So, I ran my brush through my long chestnut hair, gave myself a final once- over, and steeled myself to step out the door. It pulled closed behind me—slammed, really, as those creaky dorm doors typically do—and I headed down the hall, my heart racing faster than it had in as long as I can remember. The slam of the door echoed with finality, with irreversibility. There was no going back. I was still kind of in a haze, what with Jesse just showing up miraculously, breathing life back into my lungs, and somehow setting the world back on its axis again.  
  
Seriously, Six Flags should come up with a new roller coaster ride: The Suze Simon. How's that for a thriller? I'm not even kidding. With all the sudden ups and crashing downs in my life, it would be the biggest money- maker in theme-park history.  
  
I saw Jesse's form leaning against the balcony (not, might I add, something I would recommend anyone with actual matter do), and my breath quickened. I couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened to him in these past six agonizing months, and you know what? Part of me didn't even care.  
  
Oh, sure, I *cared*. I mean, there wasn't a bone in my body that didn't want to know what had kept him from me all this time. But then, there was this other part of me that felt that it just didn't matter. I mean, Jesse was back! All of the sudden, my life, which had become gloomy and dismal since that fateful day, had come shuddering back into motion. I could breathe again.  
  
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out onto the abandoned ledge. The soft, warm breeze caressed my face, sending my dark hair billowing about my shoulders. I settled beside him, trying, with moderate success, to keep my emotions in check.  
  
Let me tell you, that was so not an easy task. Not with Jesse staring into my eyes, his dark liquid orbs burning into me, just as I had remembered them doing so long ago. I felt my breath waver. Resolve was definitely not at a high point.  
  
He reached up with his left hand and touched my face gently, almost as if he was making sure I was really there. Right, like *he* was the one who should be skeptical. My whole body shook with his touch, as if the blood that had been frozen in my veins for over half the year had suddenly thawed and began circulating once again.  
  
I stared up at him, at a total loss for words. What could I say? I couldn't even think straight.  
  
"Susannah," he whispered in that silky voice of his. God, how I missed hearing it. "I'm. . . I'm so sorry. . . about everything."  
  
Okay, I'll admit it. I completely lost it. Every emotion, every feeling that I had bottled up so tightly inside of me since last summer when my heart was torn out and shredded broke through my steely walls and poured out. Not even poured. Crashed.  
  
"Oh, Jesse," I said. Okay, sobbed. As if his touch turned me into an instant wreck. I threw my arms around him, probably shocking him quite a bit, and breathed shakily into his white shirt. "I. . . you. . . I missed you so much. . ."  
  
Fantastic. Not even a minute into our conversation, I had turned into a bawling, incoherent waterfall. Great. Just great. I told myself as I walked hazily down the hallway that I would be strong about this, listen to what he had to say, and take it all in maturely. I said I wouldn't let my aching heart get the best of me.  
  
I guess I also should've told myself to stop kidding.  
  
Instead of staring down at me like I was a fool (which, believe me, I felt like, underneath that curtain of tears and wails), Jesse wrapped both arms around me and held me tightly. He kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair, whispering soothing Spanish words into it. Subconsciously, I was thankful my new Herbal Essences Fruit Frusions shampoo smelled positively delectable, which I was hoping he noticed.  
  
Odd, the things I think of. Really. Why was I thinking about my shampoo at a time like this?  
  
What seemed like hours later, but what probably was only a minute or so, I pulled my head back and broke away. "I'm sorry. It's just that. . . well, you know," I sniffed, surprised that I wasn't even embarrassed.  
  
Jesse clasped my hand in his. "Querida," he stared straight at me, forcing me to look into his deep eyes. "Do not apologize. Not to me."  
  
I couldn't help smiling just a little. It was still him. Still the Jesse I knew, and yes, loved. Feeling the need to change the subject, I ventured, "Where, um. . . where did you go?"  
  
"I was obligated," he sighed, "to return to the shadowland." Before I could interject, with God knows what, probably some hasty accusation that Paul had gotten his greedy mitts on him again, Jesse continued, "I was assured that it is a standard procedure, for spirits who have not yet moved on after such a great deal of time. I was questioned as to why I had not left the living world, and pressured to do so, but," he said with a slight grin, "I managed to convince my superiors that I was still needed here."  
  
Instead of asking him what he said, which I desperately wanted to know, because surely he had to have mentioned me in there somewhere, I blurted, "And that took *six months*?"  
  
Jesse, unlike me, found my exasperated tone rather amusing, which only made me more frustrated. There he was, laughing at me, while I stood there confused and bewildered as a result of him. He was *laughing* at me! I couldn't believe it.  
  
Just like old times.  
  
God, it was so good to have him back.  
  
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2004 by Carolyn  
  
Thanks everyone for reviewing! Chapter 5 will come in the near future. ;-) 


	5. Revived

After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 5  
  
Written by Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com  
  
"Through the hourglass I saw you  
  
In time you slipped away  
  
When the mirror crashed I called you  
  
And turned to hear you say  
  
If only for today  
  
I am unafraid  
  
Take my breath away. . ." Berlin ----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
I shot a half-hearted glare in Jesse's direction in response to his overwhelming amusement at my frustration, and rolled my eyes. I would have liked to say that I was truly aggravated, but come on. Consider my situation:  
  
A: I don't know if Jesse's laughing at me really ever aggravated me in  
the first place, and  
  
B: Jesse was *back*. Did I really have anything to be pissed off about?  
  
Well, aside from the very-unfinished math history paper that still loomed in my dorm room, waiting to smother me in boredom upon my return. I guess you could consider that something to be miffed about.  
  
Unless. . .  
  
Unless you just didn't return to your dorm room, my mind tempted me. Then you could avoid the suffocation of the mathematical genius of old dead men and embrace the warmth and mystery of a certain other, *young* dead man. That was always an option.  
  
An option that, quite frankly, I was all-too eager to take. When my teasing glare faded with Jesse's hand brushing my cheek, I smiled mischievously and took his hand in mine.  
  
Attention, America: Suze Simon has another brilliant idea.  
  
I broke our gaze, dropped his hand, and walked over to the balcony railing. Cautiously, I climbed onto it, steadying myself against the wall. Jesse was not the least comforted by this. His voice was aggrieved.  
  
"Susannah. . . Susannah, please. What do you think you're doing? That is not safe."  
  
I smirked at him. Since Jesse left, everything in my life had been dull. No more sneaking out to go mediate in the middle of the night, no more risking my life in situations that would be difficult to explain to my family later. No more reason to risk my life, really. For some reason, the dangerous ghosts just seemed to peter off with Jesse's departure, and well, to be honest, I kind of missed getting into trouble.  
  
Especially when that trouble usually resulted in teaming up with and/or getting saved by a certain rancher from the eighteen-fifties. That was not a monumental deterrent.  
  
So, standing atop the ledge, creaky as it was, I turned around to face him. Jesse was not looking too pleased. He looked nervous actually, and I guess I couldn't really blame him. It would probably suck for him if I suddenly plunged to my death minutes after he returned to the living world, after what must have been a lot of heavy-duty convincing of the Powers that Be on his part. I mean, it took six months! Honestly. There must be some pretty tough critics in the afterlife.  
  
Although I think it would be pretty pathetic on my part if falling three stories would kill me, after all I had been through. Really, what a waste. So many people, dead and alive, had tried so hard to off me, unsuccessfully, and then I would go do it on my own. It would not be just a little ironic.  
  
However, I was not determined to end my life quite yet. I still had too many messes to make. Well, messes to clean up, if you consider the fact that being a mediator, I apparently had Maid Service to the Undead tattooed on my forehead.  
  
Anyhow, I smiled at Jesse and took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of the Pacific breeze tossing my hair about my shoulders and back, tingling against the skin on my legs. It was like I was feeling the cool summer- like winds for the first time, like I had just woken from a deep sleep and was experiencing everything anew. Which, when you think about it, probably isn't all that far off considering my semi-catonic state for the previous half-year.  
  
"Querida," his deep voice pleaded, "please come down from there. The railing does not look safe for a person to stand on like this." He reached his hands out and stepped toward me, letting them hover about my waist.  
  
This only made me grin wider, and more devilishly. "Well, I guess I should get off then, huh?"  
  
Jesse looked pained, and uneasy. I almost felt bad for him then. I mean, the guy probably didn't have too much to stress about while hanging around in purgatory—well, okay, maybe he did—and now here I was, giving him a ghostly heart attack.  
  
Before he had a chance to respond, I turn around and leapt off the balcony.  
  
It wasn't as bad as I was expecting, but then again, I had jumped off of my porch roof plenty of times before, and that was, like, two stories high. What's one more floor? Apparently not much. I straightened up, my feet and ankles smarting from the impact, and felt the rush of adrenaline coarse through my veins. It had been so long since I had felt passion to do much of anything; it was like with Jesse's return, all the mischief I should have gotten into in a six-month timeslot was fighting to come out all at once.  
  
I cast my eyes upward toward the balcony to see Jesse leaning over it, an exasperated expression weaved in his perfect features. He groaned and dematerialized, only to reappear right beside me. It kind of sent my heart racing, and I jumped.  
  
Give me a break, okay? I had gotten used to *not* having him pop up behind me all the time. Right now, this was something relatively new. Now it was my turn to clutch my hand to my chest and breathe heavily. I guess it served me right.  
  
"I see you have not changed, Querida," Jesse teased from beside me, seemingly pleased to have startled me. Call it payback, I guess, for scaring the wits out of him just a minute before.  
  
I rolled my eyes, shrugging off the remnants of my shock. "You should've asked the Greater Powers for some chains," I said half-bitterly. "Or a cowbell."  
  
Jesse stared at me for a second, his dark eyes alight with amusement. Then he laughed. It started out gentle and low, but it wasn't long before he was really laughing at me, laughing at my mock annoyance, and it wasn't long after that before I joined him.  
  
Let me tell you, laughing felt *good*. I had forgotten what it felt like to laugh that hard, to laugh for real, and to really, truly find happiness in much of anything.  
  
All that had changed. Jesse was back, and it was like he wasn't gone at all.  
  
Except for the small fact that he was. Gone, I mean. So I decided, since it was clearly in my best interests to make up for the lost time, to ditch my math history assignment—difficult as that was, ha ha—and to take off toward the beach with the man of my dreams.  
  
Tomorrow was Thursday. I had class on Thursday. But then again, I thought with a gleam in my green eyes, would anyone really miss me if I didn't show up?  
  
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2004 by Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com  
  
Thanks for reviews! The more I get, the faster chapter 6 will appear. ;-) 


	6. Escape

After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 6  
  
Carolyn984@aol.com  
  
"Look into my eyes, you will see  
  
What you mean to me.  
  
Search your heart, search your soul  
  
When you find me there, you'll search no more. . ." –Bryan Adams  
  
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It took us a decent amount of time to get to the beach off in the distance, but I would be lying to you if I said I didn't enjoy every second of it. Sure, it was past eleven o'clock, and sure, I was a little tired, but come on. What kind of loser would I be if I didn't drop everything and spend time with Jesse? What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, hey, about that nice romantic reunion you had planned tonight? Yeah, can I take a rain check? I'm kinda beat.'  
  
No, that wouldn't be *too* pathetic.  
  
And before you get on my case about possibly skipping class, let me just inform you that I have not missed one class this whole semester. Not *one*.  
  
Well, unless you count that time the first week of the semester when I didn't go to my Freshman Seminar class because I forgot to write it down on my little schedule calendar that I had tacked to the board by my desk. . . but that really wasn't my fault. I had every intention of going. . . it's just that, well, I didn't know I even *had* the class to begin with. It was a last-minute addition to my schedule, and since everything here is done online, I didn't know it was added automatically by my advisor until a week later when I checked. Besides, I had some official mediating business to attend to.  
  
Otherwise, I'm sure I would have gone and listened to my professor drone on about the importance of getting involved in the campus community and making an effort to meet people. Really. Although I honestly don't think I need to hear any lecture of that variety. I never have trouble meeting people. Not dead ones, anyway. They always seem to find me—usually when I am sleeping, or out running, or watching Rich Girls, or doing something else that I'd rather not be disturbed while doing.  
  
Now, if they *all* decided to interrupt while in the middle of typing a math history essay, I think I would be willing to make amends with the general population of the undead.  
  
However, there was only one member of the undead with whom I was interested in making amends on this particular evening, and he was standing right next to me. We walked out onto the pier, the dark night sky illuminated by the thousands of tiny silver stars and huge bright moon overhead, casting a golden glow over the indigo ocean in front of us. The Pacific breeze tickled my skin, too warm to make me shiver, but just cool enough to make me wish I brought my NoCal hoodie, which was uselessly lying on my bed. I guess I should've thought this through a little better, but hey, it's not like I was planning on Jesse suddenly reappearing into my life. I was quite comfortable in my room in my slim black tank top and blue Z Cavaricci capris, thankyouverymuch.  
  
"So," Jesse continued. Apparently he was saying something, but to be honest, I don't remember what it was. We really weren't saying anything too important on the whole trip down to the beach; I think we both made a conscious effort to stay away from heavy topics, for each other's sake, considering the sob-fest on the balcony earlier. "How is school?"  
  
School, schmool. Let's get to the kissing already!  
  
"It's all right," was what I said. "Just swell. You know, boring classes, a bunch of people I don't know, and oh yeah, a roommate. Glorious."  
  
Jesse grinned, the moonlight playing around the creases the smile made. "Well, surely having a roommate isn't all that bad," he teased. "It isn't like you don't have experience."  
  
"Well, I guess there are some benefits," I began, "to having a female roommate. I mean, at least she returns my CDs when she borrows them," Jesse looked mock-offended by this, "and it's almost like having two wardrobes. I couldn't exactly borrow your stuff. I don't think it would be smiled upon if I went walking around in an invisible shirt."  
  
He laughed. "Probably not."  
  
A moment of silence passed between us, and Jesse took advantage of it by lifting his arm, which was resting on the ledge of the pier, and taking my chin gently in his hand. Emerald green met chocolate brown in an impassioned locking of gazes as we stared into each other's eyes in anticipation. My heart rate sped up considerably.  
  
I guess, looking back at it now, I could have prevented what was about to happen, but couldn't you see I was kind of trapped in a very happy moment, about to kiss the lips I've been missing for over six months? It's not my fault I didn't hear the ghostly footsteps hammering down the wood planks of the pier.  
  
And it's equally not my fault that I couldn't stop myself from toppling over the edge when whoever owned those angry footsteps decided it would be a good idea to push me in.  
  
I tell you, sometimes being a mediator isn't all it's cracked up to be.  
  
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Yes, it was short, but don't worry—the next few chapters are done, and long!  
  
Carolyn984@aol.com 


	7. Uninvited

After We've Said Goodbye chapter 7  
  
By Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com  
  
A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter out! I wrote this story on my computer at college, and I left it there during spring break, which was this past week, so I couldn't update. At least y'all got "Existence," which I wrote while I was home, right? That's done also, and will be updated soon (I emailed it to myself so I'd have it when I got back to school—I'm not going to make you all wait until I'm home next to see how it ends! I'm not *that* mean. ;-) ). Now I'm back at school, so I figured I'd be nice and give all you patient folks chapter seven. Enjoy!  
  
"Life has a funny way of sneakin' up on you when you think everything's okay and everything's going right. . ." Alanis Morrisette  
  
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I didn't even catch a glimpse of the angry spirit, but I felt it, all right. Almost as much as I felt the searing chilly water about point-six seconds later.  
  
Can I just take a moment to complain? I mean, seriously. What on earth did I do to deserve such foul treatment? I thought for sure I must have done something right, whether in a past life or recently, to have the good karma to bring Jesse back to me, and then I had to go and get shoved off a Northern California pier. I tell you, life is just so unfair. Why do I only get the pissed off ghosts when I'm around Jesse? And why, additionally, do the pissed off ghosts have to interrupt when he's about to lay on me what would have been quite the passionate kiss? I mean, you don't not-kiss someone for over half a year and then just give her a little peck. I was anticipating some serious lip action, and then Mr. Pushy-Hands has to go ruin it all.  
  
Well, let's just say he was lucky that I was somewhat occupied swimming back up to the surface and keeping myself afloat and getting back to shore. Otherwise, I would have canned his sorry ass right then and there. Couldn't he see we were having a *moment*?!  
  
"Susannah!" I heard Jesse call out, panicked. "Susannah, are you all right?"  
  
I spit out an impressive amount of seawater, holding myself afloat, and yelled back, "Um, if you consider cold and wet and really, really ticked off 'all right,' then I guess so. What the hell was that?"  
  
The voice I heard next was one I didn't recognize. I realized a second later, as I was striding back to shore, that it was the schmuck who pushed me in. Oh, he was *so* going to pay for that. Not only did he wreck what was going to be the best moment in my recent life, he destroyed my relatively new designer capris! Not to mention my hair, which I had just washed, and which was about as straight and smooth and frizz-free as I had seen it in weeks.  
  
"What gives you the right?" I barely heard him saying to Jesse as I climbed up onto the sand and made my way back onto the wooden pier. "What gives you the right to be able to be with someone who's still alive? I've tried to touch my girlfriend, comfort her, let her know I'm all right, and she doesn't even notice I'm there!"  
  
Apparently Mr. Pushy-Hands was ticked off, but not nearly to the degree that I was. I was royally pissed, if the way my stomping footsteps echoed in the now-freezing—at least to me, who may I remind you, was now soaked and covered in sand—night air was any indication. I marched right up to my brand new arch-enemy and socked him one right in the face. He stumbled backwards, surprised.  
  
"What gives *you* the right," I demanded, trying to keep my teeth from chattering, "to go pushing people off into the water in the middle of the night, in the middle of a *romantic MOMENT*?!" I seethed. Jesse put his arm around me cautiously, as if to hold me back. And let me tell you, it was probably a good thing he did, because I was this close to knocking Mr. Jealousy into the water himself, just so he could see how it felt.  
  
What's-his-name—I didn't know it, nor did I care to make the attempt, unless it was to know whose grave to step on next time I was in a cemetery—just kind of stared at me, and looked from me, to Jesse, and back to me. "You. . . you can see me?"  
  
I rolled my eyes and let out an impatient puff of breath that sent the shorter pieces of wet hair around my face flying. This jerk just, hello, pushed me into the Pacific, and now he's surprised that I can see him? "Um, ya, and in case you were wondering, I can feel you, too. You didn't seem too reluctant to realize that a couple minutes ago. Or did you think I wanted to go for a swim at that particular moment in my life? Because, just to clarify, I didn't—"  
  
"Why? You. . . I mean, you're alive. You—"  
  
"Hah! Well you know that much. Did you also know that it's just a tad on the rude side to go pushing *live* people into the ocean?"  
  
Jesse looked at the intruder irately. He clasped my arm protectively, much to my delight, although I was still a little on the annoyed side to really appreciate it. "I think you owe Susannah an apology," he demanded, his eyes alight with bridled anger.  
  
Well, at least someone was capable of holding it in. I guess it's a little easier when you're not the one who's freezing and wet, and all that.  
  
Ghost Boy, who was still recovering from the blow I gave him—apparently he was only recently inducted into the Dead Man Walking membership club, or he would have realized that he couldn't really be hurt, what with not having a body and all—looked at me and Jesse. "How can you see both of us? I thought maybe you only see him. . ."  
  
Hah, I wish. That would surely make my life a whole heck of a lot easier.  
  
"Nope," I snorted. "Tall ones, short ones, old ones, young ones. . . pushy ones who need to learn to keep their hands to themselves," he recoiled a bit, remembering the wrath of my fist from a moment before. "You name 'em, I see 'em."  
  
"Oh," he said meekly. He was an average-looking kid—no Brad Pitt, and surely, no Jesse—with short, sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes, maybe about five-nine or so. He seemed like a decent kid, maybe, back when he was alive and not shoving girls off of piers.  
  
But then again, who knows. Maybe that's why he was dead. Maybe someone didn't take too kindly to getting pushed into the pool or something and decided to teach him a lesson. I could so understand that rationale.  
  
"I'm sorry," he continued. The guy actually had the tact to sound remorseful. "I just. . . well, it hasn't been easy. No one can see me. I keep trying to talk to them, to let them know I'm still here, but they just walk right through me like I don't even exist."  
  
I sighed. This so figures. Wish for a romantic evening, get a mediation. I swear my life is just one colossal joke to some greater power. It must be really entertaining. Better than the WB.  
  
"That's because," I explained, I'm sorry to say, rather impatiently, "to them, you don't. They don't have this little ability I have to see dead people. Some call it a gift. . . I call it a curse." Then I stopped, glanced at Jesse briefly, and amended, more to myself than to anyone else, "Well, most of the time."  
  
Looking at Jesse, who in turn was looking at me, only made me realize even more that our quixotic getaway was not going to hold up to my fairy-tale standards. This, coincidentally, only served to irritate me. I mean, hello, I would like some time alone with him, considering I haven't seen him in (have I mentioned this?) six months. I was totally not appreciating the intrusion by Mr. Pier-Pusher.  
  
Although I guess that, since it didn't look like he was leaving any time soon, it would probably make my job easier if I knew his name.  
  
I sighed. Looks like I should've asked Jesse for that rain check after all.  
  
As it turns out, Anthony Tonelli, previously known as Mr. Pushy Hands, was a sophomore at Northern California State, and was involved in a drunk- driving accident just a few weeks ago, over Christmas break. This just goes to prove my theory that no matter how cool some people think it is, drinking just makes everything about a thousand times worse. I'm sure Anthony would agree with me.  
  
And, it seems that he does.  
  
"I just want Jessica to know that, you know, it's not her fault. I don't blame her for getting into that accident. If it were me who was driving, it would've been me instead. I've only seen her a few times since, but there's no way I can tell her."  
  
Ugh. Why does it seem like my work never ends? Honestly. All I wanted was a walk on the beach. I never asked for a charity case. I groaned inwardly, and not just because I kept thinking about how agonizingly close Jesse's lips were to mine. Now, it was because I was getting really cold, too.  
  
"Look," I said, "you want me to tell her? Because I will. Just not now, okay? Right now, the only thing on my mind is a hot shower and dry clothes," and a certain nineteenth century ghost, I added silently.  
  
Anthony looked at me with what could only be described as mild contempt, as if he was appalled that I would even consider placing my own health and well-being over doing my birth-given duty. Obviously he didn't know me too well.  
  
For the first time in a few minutes, Jesse spoke up. "And who is this girl we must find?"  
  
Hmm, I thought. We? Looks like someone wants to get back into business. I guess I couldn't really blame him. It must have been just a little boring roaming around purgatory, or whatever, for half a year. I'll have to make a mental note to ask him about that later.  
  
"Jessica Winters," he said, as if we should have known. Like it was written out in the clear blue sky, or something.  
  
I swear, some ghosts are so self-centered. Like, they think that just because they're dead and you have the good fortune to not be, you have to just drop everything to help their poor souls. Not in my world, pal.  
  
I sighed. "Well, okay then. I'll look for her around campus tomorrow, or something," I hurried him along, hoping to salvage the original intent of my evening, which did not include him in the least. "We'll be in touch, bye-bye now."  
  
Tonelli *rolled his eyes*--I'm not even kidding—and snorted. "She doesn't *go* to NoCal. She's still in high school. A senior. The Junipero Serra Mission Academy, in Carmel."  
  
Huh. My initial thought was to call him a cradle robber, but then I realized that I wasn't really in a position to talk. After all, I met Jesse when I was still sixteen, and he was oh, let's see, twenty going on one hundred and seventy. I didn't really have the upper hand in that debate.  
  
So instead, I focused on the other portion of his disclosure. My high school. Back home in Carmel.  
  
And that's why, about an hour later, I found myself—wet clothes and all—sitting across the desk from a weary-looking snowy-haired priest.  
  
"Well hello, Susannah," Father Dominic said. "It's been a while."  
  
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Chapter 8 coming soon!  
  
Remember—reviews make happy authors and happy authors write faster stories. ;-)  
  
2004 by Carolyn 


	8. Return

After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 8  
  
By Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com  
  
"This used to be my playground. . ." - Madonna  
  
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I didn't really feel the need to embellish why I was soaking wet and, unfortunately, rather unkempt looking. In order to explain, you see, I would have had to entertain the fact that I was pushed off a pier as I was about to, hello, kiss Jesse, and something told me that this information wouldn't fly too high with Father D.  
  
Not to mention the fact that Father Dominic didn't even know Jesse was back. He politely dematerialized before I entered the priest's office.  
  
I figured it would be nice of me to tell him, though.  
  
"I got an unexpected visitor this evening," I began, trying to contain my enthusiasm. Father Dominic eyed me curiously, obviously noting my sodden appearance.  
  
"A fraternity boy with water balloons?"  
  
My contained joy died a rapid little death. I snorted.  
  
"No, Father D. Jesse," I smiled in spite of myself. "He's back."  
  
The good father nearly fell into his chair—he had been standing before—and stared at me, open-mouthed. "He. . . Jesse—you're sure? He's back?"  
  
I grinned, feeling the whole lot of emotions rush through me again. You know, the goofy happiness, relief, the whole bit. I told him about how he just showed up in my dorm room a few hours earlier, and what happened to him (as far as I knew it) and all that. As I was talking, Jesse modestly materialized beside me.  
  
"Good morning, Father," he said, with a slight smile on his face. I looked at the clock in his office—I guess 'morning' was more appropriate, what with it being around two o'clock and all.  
  
Father Dominic looked completely stunned. I don't think he could look more surprised if you told him the Pope was going to make a stop at the Mission next time he was in the States.  
  
"Why. . . Jesse, well. . . this is truly amazing," he paused, seemingly at a loss for words. I totally knew how he felt. "Well, it's good to have you back!"  
  
I'll say.  
  
I interrupted the little reunion. "Well, to be honest Father D, that's not the whole reason why I came down here. You see, we kind of met this ghost, and he wants to give his girlfriend a message, and she goes here, so I figured I might as well stop by, since I was already like half-way here—"  
  
"Oh, another spirit!" Father Dominic, very unlike him, interrupted me. "I was wondering when I would hear from you about mediating again."  
  
More than just about mediating, I'm sure Father Dom was just ecstatic to hear that I was *willing* to help out in the mediating realm again. Understandably, I hadn't been all-too eager since last July.  
  
"Well," I ventured, "you should be happy to know that I didn't use my fists until he pushed me over the pier. He touched first. Jesse can attest to that."  
  
Instead of sighing and reaming me about my technique, Father Dominic just squinted at me, then at Jesse, and back at me. "What were you doing at the beach in the middle of the night?" he accused. "Don't you have class tomorrow, Susannah?"  
  
Oops, busted. Me and my big mouth.  
  
I felt my face heat up. "Well, Father D, not until later in the morning, and it's only Intro to Philosophy. . ."  
  
Okay, so I wasn't planning on going at all, but he didn't have to know that.  
  
The look on his face, though, totally told me that he did. He just sighed, dismissing the subject altogether, much to my relief. "Well, Susannah, what you do is your own business now. But I do hope that you realize that every class you miss is money wasted."  
  
Yeah, but every class I go to is money wasted, too, so why make my life more miserable?  
  
Instead of stating this salient point, I returned to the situation at hand. "So," I said. "Jessica Winters. She's the girlfriend who we're supposed to find. Ring a bell?"  
  
Father Dominic rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger for a moment before realization dawned on him. "Ah, Miss Winters! Of course. Vice President of the senior class. Excellent student. Well, at least, until recently."  
  
The new VP, huh? I was mildly interested upon hearing this. Surely, whoever this new chick was couldn't possibly be doing as splendid a job as I did when I attended the Academy. Father Dominic was leafing through last year's yearbook—my senior photo was actually somewhat decent in it, meaning I didn't look like someone just yelled "Fire!" for once in my life—until he finally came across the page he was looking for. Turning the maroon volume so it was facing me, he pointed at one of the relatively small square pictures.  
  
"This is she. Jessica Winters. Cheerleading captain and co-captain of the softball team. Merit scholar and—"  
  
I cut him off. I mean, sorry, but learning about all of her exemplary accomplishments, aside from making me feel somewhat inferior in comparison, was just not on my A-list of things to do at two in the morning.  
  
"So what do you want me to do? Just hang around 'til tomorrow and tell her? Because you know, in light of recent events, I think it would be in my best interest to attend to the wishes of the lost souls of the departed, even if it means missing class. . ."  
  
The sky-eyed priest looked at me with a stare that could only be described as pitying. "Susannah, grateful as I am to have to have you back and eager to help out, I really do not think it's necessary to jeopardize your education to do so."  
  
Necessary? No. More interesting than learning about Plato and Socrates? Yes. Besides, I could always ask Jesse about all that.  
  
This time it was Jesse, who had been relatively silent throughout the whole ordeal, who interrupted. "What do you mean, 'until recently'?"  
  
Both Father Dominic and I turned to stare at him. "Pardon?"  
  
"You said that she is an excellent student, until recently. How do you mean?" Oh, right. Jessica. Anthony. The reason we're both here. Right.  
  
"Well, I only meant that she has been somewhat reserved since a few weeks ago. A little, ah, slacking in her work. I did not know of the underlying circumstances, however. Not until you two arrived."  
  
"And you believe it is because of this boyfriend of hers?" Jesse asserted.  
  
I looked at him, almost taken aback. "Well," I began, dropping my eyes to the floor, in a quiet voice, "losing someone you love can do that to a person. Make you, um, not want to do stuff, I mean."  
  
The silence that came next was not just a little uncomfortable. God. Why do I have to open my big mouth all the time? That didn't sound *too* obviously relative to me and my recent state of being. No, not at *all*.  
  
Did I mention how big of a *loser* I am?  
  
Thankfully, Father Dominic broke the uneasy silence by clearing his throat and continuing. "Well, ah, anyway. Susannah, Jesse, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I believe I can handle this, however. I think it is more important for you to return to your dorm and attend your classes like the upstanding student I know you are."  
  
Um, hello? Was Father D aware of who he was talking to? Me, upstanding? All right.  
  
I knew there was no arguing with him, however. Once the Mission's principal got an idea in his head, he was almost as stubborn as I was. Besides, I was getting way tired, and I still wasn't dried off yet. I sighed, turning toward the door. "All right, Father Dom. Gotcha."  
  
"Oh, and Susannah?"  
  
I turned. "Yes?"  
  
Father Dominic was smiling at me, faint under-eye circles and all. "It's good to have you back."  
  
I grinned in spite of myself. I couldn't help it. All of the sudden, I just felt this rush of appreciation and affection for the old priest; I realized how much I had missed him in the past few months. Without thinking, I flung my arms around him and gave him a firm yet gentle hug.  
  
"It's good to be back, Father D," I whispered. "It's good to be back."  
  
Jesse, who was watching all of this, broke out in a smile of his own. He just stood there, staring at me with one of those unreadable expressions. Realizing that now that my job was done—I had told Father Dominic about the ghost situation, which I was planning on taking care of myself, but since he insisted I get back to school, I could now spend the rest of my night with Jesse—I released him from my embrace and turned to leave.  
  
"It was good to see you again, Father," Jesse said, all gentleman-like, and shook his hand. Dominic smiled wearily, peacefully, as if Jesse's return brought some semblance of normalcy back to his world as well.  
  
"I could not agree more, Jesse. Please, feel free to visit any time you like."  
  
And with that, the ghost and the mediator left Junipero Serra's halls and strode out into the breezeway. It was so peaceful outside, with the pacific winds brushing against our faces, and the dark opaque sky shutting out all light aside from the silvery stars and bright golden moon. The air smelled of sea water—or maybe that was just me—and midnight. You know what I mean. That deep, fresh smell that only comes around when it's pitch dark out, and only in clean places. You would never get the midnight smell in New York. No, the only thing I'd smell there in the middle of the night is garbage from the dumpster down the street and the faint smell of cigarette smoke billowing in my window from the sidewalk. Not exactly an endearing scent, if you know what I mean.  
  
Jesse and I walked through the school grounds, and eventually ended up by the fountain and the repaired statue of Junipero Serra—the first place, I realized, where Jesse saved my life. I smiled a little. This didn't go unnoticed. Jesse cast his eyes down at me, a pleasant demeanor in his flawless features. He raised the eyebrow with the scar in it as he looked at me.  
  
"What?"  
  
I met his gaze, still smiling in spite of myself. "Oh, nothing."  
  
Jesse lifted my chin with his forefinger, and said, his voice as silky as ever, "It was definitely something, querida."  
  
I beamed. The way he was looking at me, well, it made me feel so. . .  
  
. . .valuable. That's the only way I can describe it. He lowered his head slowly, and I felt my heart go pitter-pat all over again.  
  
"Cheating bastard. You got what you deserved."  
  
Until, of course, an angry female voice coming from the direction of the cemetery totally spoiled the moment. I turned, angrily, to see who else on earth would be here at two-thirty in the morning on a Thursday, and let's just say I was not at all comforted by who I saw.  
  
Jessica Winters. And she did not look at all like a mourning girlfriend.  
  
In fact, she looked proud. Evilly so.  
  
I swear, my work just never ends.  
  
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Reviews are much appreciated! The more I get, the more you guys get. Thanks =)  
  
2004 by Carolyn 


	9. Business

After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 9  
  
A/N: Okay, don't shoot! I know it's been like fifty years since I updated. . . but I swear there's good reason. Er. . . okay, I can't think of one. I was just lazy. No excuse. The next few chapters have been done for a while now. I guess school was getting the best of me. Well, here it is!  
  
"I wonder why I got out of bed at all. . ." –Dido  
  
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I guess I can see why Jessica and Anthony were going out. They just have so much in common.  
  
Anthony interrupted Jesse and I when we were about the share our first kiss of reunion, and Jessica totally ruined the moment and interrupted us when we were about to try again.  
  
Really. They're perfect for each other.  
  
Although I would have to say I liked Jessica just a little bit more, considering she didn't push me into the fountain or anything. But then there was that whole "you got what you deserved" thing. That just made me a little suspicious.  
  
I looked at Jesse sadly, and sighed in frustration. Why me? Those good old mediating instincts were kicking in, telling me that I would have quite a bit of work on my hands in the coming days.  
  
On second thought, Father Dom, I don't think you can handle this one by yourself. Stray souls of peaceful Native Americans, sure. Very angry, very much alive, spiteful teenage girls? Not so much.  
  
Jessica didn't appear to notice my presence on the fountain, and she wouldn't have noticed Jesse regardless, so she just kept rambling on in that possessed voice of hers. Her shoulder-length ebony hair waved about her neck as she stalked out from the cemetery gates, and I swear I even heard her cackle wickedly. I'm serious. It was like I walked out of the Mission's hallway and straight into the set of The Wizard of Oz. If Jessica started making any threats about getting Anthony's little dog, too, I think I would have been forced to chalk it up to watching too many Judy Garland movies the night before, and just go straight home to bed.  
  
I couldn't just be hallucinating, though. No, I don't have that kind of luck. This was unfortunately real, and evidently something I would end up having to tidy up. So, I figured, might as well cut to the chase.  
  
"Um, hey? Jessica? Jessica Winters?"  
  
The girl stopped in her tracks. She looked over at me in surprise, her grayish-green eyes studying me with contempt.  
  
"Who the hell are you?"  
  
Oh, good one, Father D. You really made some improvements in the Vice President position.  
  
I glanced at Jesse and raised an eyebrow. He looked at me with what could only be described as tentative encouragement.  
  
"Be careful with this girl, Susannah. She does not seem stable."  
  
This much I gathered. So, instead of rebuking her rather rude comment with an equally colorful one of my own, I simply said, "I'm Suze. I, um. . . I used to go here."  
  
Jessica raised a slender, inky black eyebrow. She squinted her marine-fog eyes at me, looking me up and down. I could feel her gaze rest on my hair, which probably looked exquisite having been styled by the Pacific Ocean. Not. "Um, so?"  
  
Okay, so she wasn't much of a conversationalist. I could handle that. In fact, it makes my job a heck of a lot easier when I could just jump right to the point and not worry about the long introductions.  
  
I didn't feel any particular reason to be nice to her, considering she wasn't doing too much for me, so I just went, "So, I hear you and your boyfriend got into an accident a while back. Had a little too much bubbly, drove a little too fast?"  
  
If she wasn't a little ray of summer sunshine before, she certainly wasn't now. She actually rolled her eyes and—get this—put her hands on her hips so one jutted out in annoyance. "I wasn't drunk, stupid. If I was, don't you think I'd be in jail right now?"  
  
While the thought had crossed my mind, I wasn't too interested in talking about how much alcohol, or lack thereof, she had to drink on that particular night. Especially not after that comment. I don't take too kindly to being called stupid, so I shot a glare back at her that way surpassed her own. "Well, it was an accident, am I right? Or was it? Because you know, apparently someone thinks the 'cheating bastard got what he deserved.' Correct me if I'm wrong, by all means."  
  
For a split second, little Miss Merit Scholar Cheerleader galore actually looked flabbergasted that I had heard her little fuming earlier, but it quickly faded. She stalked up to me so she was no more than a foot from my face. Jesse, who had been watching intently throughout the ordeal, stiffened and stepped closer to me as well.  
  
"Are you trying to tell me that I killed him? Is that what you're trying to say? Because I don't know who the hell you think you are, coming to MY school in the middle of the night, thinking you know all about me, when you don't know a Damn Thing!" She squealed the final two words of her rant so loudly that my ears were ringing for a good ten seconds afterward.  
  
I can't tell you how much I just wanted to ring her little softball-playing neck right there. First of all, I'm sure she permanently damaged my hearing somewhere down the road, and secondly, she called the mission *her* school. No way. I may have only gone there for two-and-a-half years, but it was way much more mine than it could ever be hers. I mean, I don't think anyone else could possibly change the school as much as I had.  
  
Okay, granted that disfiguring the founder's statue, wrecking a couple classrooms, and leveling the breezeway don't really qualify as positive changes, but still. None of those incidences could be considered totally my fault.  
  
But either way, this girl in front of me was looking particularly livid. I had no doubt in my mind that she had purposely driven that car into a tree, or whatever, to get revenge on Anthony, who she assumed was cheating on her, and I guess she didn't take too kindly to being found out. She was fuming, if the way she kept clutching her fists was any indication.  
  
"Susannah," Jesse breathed beside me, "I don't know if this is such a good idea. . ."  
  
I snorted. "Oh please, Jesse. There's nothing here I can't handle."  
  
Jessica, who apparently thought I was talking to her, brought a fist straight up in between our faces. "*Don't* call me Jessie. Understand me? And stay the hell out of my business, or I swear I'll find you and send you straight to your grave, too."  
  
Wow. This chick almost sounded like me. Well, except I only used that threat on people who were already dead. Usually, anyway.  
  
"So you admit it! You did kill him," I smirked triumphantly. Wow, maybe I should consider working for, like, the FBI or something. That confession just seemed to slip right out of her lips. Yes, I've still got it.  
  
I only got to ponder my possible career options for a second, however, because that one second was all it took for Jessica to demonstrate her increasing rage by slamming that fist right into my face.  
  
I was more shocked than I was in pain, which is why, when Jesse let out an angry yelp and grabbed me so I wouldn't topple backwards, all I could do was reach up to touch the spot on my face that would probably be bruised tomorrow and stare at Jessica, fury building up. Oh, she was so going to pay.  
  
Remember when I said I liked Jessica more than Anthony? Well, I take that back. No one punches Susannah Simon and lives to tell the tale. Dramatically speaking, of course. It's not like I was going to kill her, or anything, but oh, was the thought appealing.  
  
If I couldn't kill her, I could give her a bruise or two of her own, which is why I broke free of Jesse's protective hold and lunged at the girl in front of me, tackling her to the ground with an elegantly-placed roundhouse kick to the stomach. Looks like all that kickboxing paid off.  
  
"Bitch," Jessica spat at me from her new, grassy vantage point. Oh, the comebacks are just *so* original. Seriously. Can't people think of something else to call me besides that? It's really getting tiresome.  
  
I just stood there, hands poised semi-triumphantly in a fighting stance, with a smirk on my face. "Eat dirt," I suggested.  
  
Jessica didn't appreciate my offer, however, and leapt up again, ferocity twinkling in her gray-green eyes. She swung at me again, but this time I grabbed the arm that flailed in my direction and twisted it behind her back and a rather unforgiving angle. She let out an anguished yelp and struggled to free herself.  
  
I, however, am far more experienced in the physical realm. It would not be easy to fight me and win, and I made sure she would know that, especially since she was the one who started it to begin with—something I would be sure to inform Father Dom of later.  
  
"Listen up," I said to her, while noting that Jesse had sat back down—albeit tensely—at the fountain. "I know what you did. I also know," I gave her arm a quick jerk, since she kept struggling, "that your boyfriend is under the delusion that you're still the distraught girlfriend—"  
  
"How would *you* know," she grunted through gritted teeth. "You never knew him," even in the moonlight, I could see her eyes narrow, "unless you were the bitch he was cheating on me with."  
  
I scoffed, releasing her from my firm grasp. "Not quite," I said. "Anthony's not really my type, thanks. Besides, I'm kind of taken by someone way hotter."  
  
Oh.  
  
God.  
  
How embarrassing. . . I didn't even want to steal a glance in Jesse's direction, but I'm sure his eyebrows were raised way up.  
  
This night just keeps getting worse and worse.  
  
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2004 by Carolyn 


	10. Vengeance

After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 10  
  
By Carolyn  
  
"It makes me that much stronger, makes me work a little bit harder  
  
Makes me that much wiser, thanks for makin' me a fighter. . ." –Christina Aguilera  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
I really can't be blamed for my actions. I mean, come on. My head was kind of in a whirlwind. In a matter of less than five hours, my entire world changed, and I was hurled back into the mediating universe in full- force. You'd be a little short-tempered, too, with that mixed blessing.  
  
I cleared my throat and suppressed the shiver that fought its way out of my body through my still-wet clothes. "Okay, look. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I do know that Anthony," I paused, trying to think of a way to say this without sounding like myself—a freak who talks to the dead, "um, well, he cares. . . –cared- about you a lot. And I honestly think you got him all wrong. I don't think he was cheating on you."  
  
She glared at me, but she didn't appear quite as outraged as before. "He totally was," she asserted. "He thought that just because I'm just some little high school girl that I wouldn't know. . . bu-but I did." She stopped looking so mad, and actually looked heartbroken for a change. "I knew."  
  
I groaned inwardly. I am a lot of things—mediator, student, babysitter. . . girlfriend—but there's one thing I'm not, and that's a therapist. I so did not want to sit here and comfort this girl, who might I add, murdered her own boyfriend, when I could be making much better use of my time with my own. Boyfriend, I mean. Who happened to be sitting on the fountain edge, looking all hot and manly. I nonchalantly walked over to the fountain and sat beside him, although Jessica didn't see anyone else.  
  
"All right," I said. "Let's just say he –was- cheating on you. Does that really justify what you did?"  
  
The flash of anger returned briefly to her pretty face. All right, I thought. I guess we're probably not going to get anywhere with me going all "Dear Abby" on her. I sighed.  
  
Just then, I caught another flash of something out of the corner of my eye, and upon further inspection, I found that it was looking as, if not more, angry than Jessica was.  
  
Anthony Tonelli. He was back, and apparently, he had heard quite a bit of our conversation, and now knew that his own girlfriend had offed him. It's probably not a pleasant wake-up call.  
  
But, I realized with a sharp breath, it was the same wake-up call that Jesse had gotten when he woke up dead all those hundred-fifty-odd years ago. I tore my eyes away from a murderous-looking Anthony to look over at Jesse, who seemed lost in thought. Maybe that's why he had been so quiet throughout this whole ordeal. . .maybe that's why he didn't want me to get involved. It was probably like Maria had plopped right back down on earth in front of him in the form of Jessica Winters. . . except for that whole cheating thing. Jesse never cheated on her, well, considering they never really even knew each other. But whatever.  
  
I looked back over to Anthony, who advanced on our area in a fit of rage. "Are you. . . are you tryin' to tell me that. . . that she –purposely- killed me?!" He looked at Jessica, who was standing a mere three feet away from him, and had no idea he was there. Something in his eyes made me a little nervous for her sake. He didn't look much like the loving boyfriend who I met earlier that evening.  
  
But then again, I guess stuff like that happens to change when you find out that the girlfriend you were loving didn't really feel too amorous back. Like, say, about as adoring as a praying mantis about to bite the head off of a helpless black ant. It doesn't exactly give one the warm fuzzies.  
  
"I'm not trying to tell you anything," I said quickly, hopping up off of the ledge, and Jesse, sensing the tension, did the same.  
  
Jessica gave me a weird look. "Yeah, you better not be, because Anthony got what he deserved. No one screws around with some other chick and gets awa—"  
  
I leapt over and clamped my hand over Jessica's mouth. Too late, though. She'd already said too much in Anthony's presence anyway, so I really don't know what I was trying to prevent. He already knew that Jessica essentially murdered him, so having her admit it one more time probably wasn't going to change anything.  
  
All right, let me rephrase that. It probably wasn't going to make him any –less- angry. It sure did change things though—he got way more pissed, if the way his ghostly aura tripled its wattage was any indication.  
  
"Hey!" Jessica screeched, throwing my hand off of her mouth. "What do you think you're do—"  
  
"Look out!" I cried, pushing her out of the way of a flying uprooted stone. I managed to push her to safety, but got walloped by the brick in her place. Sure, it only hit me on the shoulder, but let me tell you something—ghosts are strong. When they throw things, they –hurt-.  
  
Jesse rushed over to me. "Susannah! Are you all right?" He put his arm around my waist and lifted me back to my feet—which, honestly, was probably overdoing it just a bit. I mean, yeah, I just got hit by a brick flying at a pretty high velocity and was probably bleeding, but I've been buried by a whole hallway of bricks and still managed to come out alive. I wasn't about to complain, though.  
  
"Jesse," I breathed. "He's going to try to kill her!"  
  
Who'd have thought I'd be trying to protect Jessica Winters? I tell you, sometimes, it's better to just not think too far ahead when you're a mediator. Some things are just not in the playbook.  
  
Jesse's dark eyes flashed as he looked over to where Jessica was sprawled out on the grass, slowly getting up, and not looking very pleased. "Hey, what the hell was that for?" Only she didn't say 'hell.'  
  
"Look," I called over to her. "You've got to get out of here, okay? Don't ask, just go!"  
  
Anthony turned to me, looking murderous as ever. I swear, he looked like one of those mug shots of someone on America's Most Wanted, only glowing. A lot.  
  
"You. . . I thought you were on –my- side! She –killed- me!"  
  
Okay, now I was dealing with two very angry people. I had a feeling this was going to get very messy, very soon.  
  
"Jesse, get Father Dom," I said. Two mediators would probably be better than one, in this case.  
  
Jesse looked uncertain. "Susannah. . . I don't want you alone with this—"  
  
"Jesse!" I pleaded. "I'll be fine. Just please, get him, okay? It'll only take a second!"  
  
He hesitated, looking uneasy, but I shot him a final pleading glance, and he disappeared in a shimmer of light. I returned my focus to the scene unfolding before me: Anthony advancing toward Jessica, holding a good-sized stone in his hands. He apparently realized that, although he couldn't touch her, he sure could hit her with stuff, and he leapt on this interesting bit of knowledge.  
  
"No, stop!"  
  
Jessica turned around, confused. "I thought you told me to g—ah!" She saw the brick, seemingly hovering in thin air, and her eyes went wide. "What the hell!?"  
  
"Jessica, RUN!"  
  
Not, I knew, that it would really do any good. Anthony could materialize wherever he wanted, but I was betting on the hope that he didn't know that yet. He wasn't about to let her take my advice, however. The hazel-eyed once-sophomore hurled the heavy rock at his former girlfriend, hitting her square in the back. Jessica cried out in pain and fell to the ground.  
  
I was appalled. Maybe it was because I hadn't dealt with the homicidal sort in quite a while, but still. That was just uncalled for.  
  
"Hey!" I ran over to him, grabbing him by the left arm. "That's not going to solve anything, all right? Chill out! I'm handling this!"  
  
His arm flinched violently. His gaze, which was fixed on the whimpering form of his murderer, turned and looked down at me. And let me tell you, the look he was giving me wouldn't exactly make a girl's heart go pitter- pat. Instead, I sneezed. I don't know where it came from. Was I getting sick or something?  
  
"You," he growled, disgusted, in a voice that sounded so out-of-place coming from him. "You aren't going to handle –anything-. This doesn't concern you. This is between me and –her-." Anthony spat out that last pronoun as if it were vile. Which, to him, it probably was.  
  
"Nu-uh," I shook my head stubbornly, sending my wavy hair flying. "This isn't how it's done."  
  
The arm I was holding onto suddenly flew from my grasp and wrapped around my neck instead. Not too gently, either.  
  
Okay. This was way uncool.  
  
See what I get for trying to help? Flying bricks in my shoulder and big guy-arms choking around my neck. I ask you, who needs that?  
  
"Hey!" I yelled, gripping his arm with my hands. "Lay off it, pal!" I gave him a firm back-kick to the shin, which caught him off-guard, and spun out from under his arm. I whirled around to face him, fists poised and ready for a little ghostly ass-kicking.  
  
Anthony, it appeared, was ready to accept my challenge. This was definitely not the same kid who had shrunk away when I popped him one in the face out on the pier. Now he was looking just plain murderous.  
  
Not. Good.  
  
He took a menacing step toward me, casting a glace in Jessica's direction. She was barely getting up, still moaning from the crushing blow to her back. Come on, I thought. She must have gotten hit with a softball or gotten dropped off a pyramid in cheerleading. Don't tell me she didn't hop right back up!  
  
Although I guess getting pursued by your murdered ex-boyfriend can be a little different.  
  
"Either get out of my way," he demanded, "or you'll just have to deal with what happens."  
  
I narrowed my eyes at him. "No."  
  
I guess that wasn't what he wanted to hear, because the next thing I knew, Anthony lunged at me like a panther and had both his hands around my neck. All right, I thought. I can handle this. I've gotten out of death-grips before. It comes with the territory.  
  
So I tried. Emphasis on the word 'tried,' because let me tell you, Anthony may not have been a star shot-putter or anything in his life, but apparently that doesn't matter too much when you're dead. I think I've mentioned this before, that ghosts have amazing strength.  
  
Unfortunately. Because next thing I knew, he was dragging me, flailing about and kicking him—pretty hard, I might add, but I guess he was learning that he didn't really have to feel pain, being dead and all—over to the mission's fountain.  
  
And in I went.  
  
Okay, I thought as I was submerged in chilly water for the second time that night. This is not good.  
  
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2004 by Carolyn  
  
Chapter 11 coming soon—and there is major fluff ;-) More reviews = faster uploading! 


	11. Savior

After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 11

By Carolyn, Don't own 'em. Never have, never will.

Author's Note: OH MY GOD DON'T SHOOT! I know it's been. . . crap, almost a full year since I've updated. And for that I am so, SO sorry. This chapter's just been sitting around on my computer, doing nobody any good, waiting to be tossed out into the public eye, and I've just forgotten about the whole thing. Since freshman year ended a few days after my last update, I was kind of tossed into a summer whirlwind of my own little crazy dramatic story of being pursued and eventually loved. And hey, why write about someone else's story when you've got one of your own brewing right under your nose? That, and the fact that my computer wasn't set up at home. But that's no excuse, I guess. My personal story has recently come to a tragically dramatic end, or as I like to call it, a "to-be-continued" (I know, I know. . . sucks, but that's life), and so upon finding this in my Word documents, I figured I'd get crackin' on finishing it. My deepest apologies yet again, but I think this chapter will make up for it. Love you guys!

"Scatter me across the sky

I'll shine all night

And just like a star

I'll fall for you." -Matchbook Romance

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I don't know how long he was holding me under—I kind of lost track of time what with the flailing and drowning and all—but the next thing I knew, Anthony's grip around my neck relinquished and was no longer holding me down. I took this opportunity to force myself up with all the might I could muster, which, after being nearly drowned, was not very much. I surfaced, all kinds of pains racing through my chest, gasping for air.

It wasn't until then that I saw why Anthony Tonelli had been unsuccessful in killing me: Jesse had returned, and was now proceeding to beat him senseless. Oh, how sweet.

I flung myself over the edge of the fountain—because first of all, that water was way cold, and second of all, I'd really like to be in a position to fight back if Anthony returned—and leaned up against it, catching my breath. My vision was a little hazy due to lack of oxygen and all, and I had quite a headache, but at least I didn't pass out.

Jesse, who had been fighting to both get away from Anthony and still keep him distracted, gave him an impressive left hook to the jaw, which sent Anthony flying backwards and into the ground. Father Dominic, I noticed, was helping Jessica up. He glanced worriedly in my direction, but seeing that I was more or less all right, breathed a sigh of relief and hurried over toward the mission, supporting Jessica all the way. He looked over his shoulder as he rushed back into the building and insisted, "Jesse, get Susannah out of here. I will speak with you both later."

With Anthony temporarily down, Jesse rushed over to me and helped me up. "Querida," he breathed, his voice urgent and worried, "are you all right?"

I nodded weakly, but I guess motion was not a good idea, because it made me spew out a plentiful mouthful of water that I didn't even realize was trapped somewhere in my lungs. No wonder they hurt so much.

This event didn't appear to soothe Jesse any, if the way he glared lethally over at Anthony and tightened his grip around my waist was any indication. "Susannah, we've got to get you somewhere safe."

I peered up at him, my mouth still hanging open probably quite unattractively. "Jesse, no! I've got to take care of this! He's going to kill her!"

He looked angry—angry at Anthony for having nearly drowned me, angry at himself for having left me, even at my urging, and letting it almost happen. "Susannah, he nearly killed _you!"_

I was unpleasantly aware of this, but I'm far too bull-headed to start something like this and not finish it. So, I simply ignored that little revelation. "Jesse. . . he is going to kill her! Maybe not now, but he can get her later when we're not around! I've got to finish this NOW."

Jesse didn't say anything. He just got one of those stern looks on his face and started leading me away from the scene. Not for long, though. Since his back was turned, he didn't see Anthony ferociously approaching from behind, but I did.

"Look out!" I cried, and gave Jesse a little shove, meanwhile tackling the former NoCal sophomore to the ground. Fire was burning in my green eyes. "Who the hell do you think you are!" Punch. "I'm trying to help you," Punch. "but maybe I shouldn't! Maybe Jessica had the right idea when she killed you!" Double punch.

All right, a little extreme, but can't you see I was pissed?

So, it seems, was Anthony. He sat up fiercely, knocking me onto the ground not a little roughly.

If I ever got back to college, I was going to have some serious explaining to do to my roommate for all these bruises I'm sure I was getting, not to mention why I smelled like seawater.

"Stay out of my way, bitch," he growled at me, and then disappeared with an angry flash of light. I just stayed there, staring open-mouthed at the spot where he just was. Jesse gently-but-firmly wrapped his arm around me again, lifting me back up. He pulled my body close to his so that I was pretty much leaning into him—not that I was complaining—and guided me toward the road again.

It wasn't until then that I realized just how crappy I felt. I was freezing, my chest ached, my legs were sore, my head was killing me, and my shoulder felt like it was on fire. I looked down at it, and let out a little gasp when I realized that fresh blood was trickling down it, mixed with rivulets of water from the fountain, and soaking into my black tank top. That little gasp quickly turned into a full-out coughing fest; I was suddenly coughing so hard that I had to stop walking until the fit was over.

Jesse looked down at me, concern omnipresent in his well-defined features. He put his hands on my shoulders and stared down at me, all serious and grim. I shivered from both the cold and from some bodily ache that came from within.

"Susannah. . . you are ill," he concluded. He then glanced at my shoulder, which was cut from the brick Anthony hurled at me. "You are hurt. . ." He sounded so despondent about it that it made me think that he felt guilty for it. And, well, I couldn't have that. I mean, it wasn't his fault.

"No, I'm fine."

Then I had to go and totally ruin that statement by doing something that completely erased any conviction that it may have had. I sneezed. Which only served to start up the coughing again.

"Really," I sputtered between coughs. "I'm okay."

When I finally stopped, I looked up at Jesse and met his dark eyes, which were watching me intently and sadly. I'm not even kidding. Jesse was sad that he had "let me get hurt." He lifted my chin up to fix his gaze on mine.

"You're not fine."

And then he scooped me up in his arms and began to walk, holding me close to him. I raised an eyebrow, tired as I was, and thought, hey. If this is the treatment I get from getting knocked around and nearly catching pneumonia, maybe I should go looking for homicidal ghosts more often. I wrapped my arms around Jesse's neck and leaned into him, resting my head on his broad chest. All of the sudden, I didn't really hurt all that much anymore.

"You know," I said softly, smiling to myself. "I don't need you to take care of me. I mean, I've managed for the past six months without you."

Jesse kept staring straight ahead, continuing the trek back to my school. I saw him smile a little in the moonlight. "I have to, querida. If I don't have you, what else do I have?"

I swear my heart just did a triple-flip. Oh. My. God.

My head snapped up and I stared at him, my mouth hanging open a little. I don't know if I had planned on saying something, or what, but I just was so shocked by that confession. It was so. . . heartfelt. I nearly choked.

Jesse noticed my surprise and turned his head down toward me. He grinned at me, showing off his white teeth, and just stared straight into my eyes. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. All I could comprehend at that moment was Jesse.

And before I knew what was happening, the already-small gap between our faces grew smaller, and smaller, and smaller. Jesse slowly lifted the arm that was cradling the small of my back up to my neck and then to cup my face. He smiled at me again, so sweetly, that I couldn't help smiling back at him.

And that's when he softly tilted my chin and pulled my lips up to meet his.

_Finally._

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And there it is, folks! I hope it makes up for my nearly ten-month absence! Chapter Twelve is done, and I'm currently writing chapter thirteen, so there will be updates in the next week or so. I PROMISE!

Leave me reviews!

Carolyn


	12. Morning

After We've Said Goodbye chapter 12

By Carolyn

AN: Um… don't kill me. I know it's been like 10 months since my last update. College and summer and forgetting all about it can do that.

"To my surprise, and my delight

I saw a sunrise, I saw a sunlight

I am nothing in the dark

And the clouds burst to show the daylight

Oh and the sun with shine

Yeah on this heart of mine

Ohh and I realize

Who cannot live without.

Ohh come apart without…" –Coldplay

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For the rest of our walk—or I should say, his walking, my floating—you could have asked me who Jessica Winters or Anthony Tonelli were, and I honestly would not be able to tell you. My mind was so far from everything that had happened in the previous few hours that I couldn't—didn't want to—remember any of the earlier events.

Well, maybe except the most recent one.

And even though kissing Jesse certainly perked the evening up, it was kind of like a sugar-high; for those brief few minutes, I was more alert than I had been in my entire life, but immediately afterward, I fell into the most peaceful, tired state, and promptly fell right to sleep.

I know, I'm pathetic. I really am.

But you know what? I may be pathetic, and sick, and still wet from both water and blood, but none of that really mattered. Jesse was carrying me, like I was this precious treasure, and for that time, nothing could go wrong. For the first time in months, although I was in my sickest, most beaten up state, I was truly happy.

And when I woke up to Jesse's soft voice in my ear, I swear I was still smiling.

"Querida. . . I want you to see something."

I lifted my head from his shoulder—checking inconspicuously for drool (there was none, graciously)—and looked up. Jesse was smiling, but I didn't know why until I looked at my surroundings.

Everything looked so familiar. . . the same smells, the same view. . . only no pine needles pricking at my butt. The only reason that was, I realized, was because I was still being held by a certain 20-something ghost.

My porch roof. I was back on my porch roof. I guess after I had fallen asleep, Jesse had taken a little detour back to Ninety-nine Pine Crest Road.

When I looked out at the horizon, my mouth agape in stunned silence, I saw what Jesse wanted to show me.

The sun was rising, and it was the most beautiful sight I had seen in years.

The bright golden ball of fire was lifting from below the ocean where it slept, turning the low streaky clouds shades of crimson and lavender, reflecting in the serene cerulean sea. I swear, every color in the spectrum was present in this sunrise, from the forest-green of the pine needles, to the firey orange of the sun, to the tan sand in the distance, and the pink shadows of the clouds. It was like someone had taken a paintbrush and dipped it into each color of crayola, streaking it across the sky. Never had I seen anything so magnificent.

"That. . . oh, my god. . . that's. . . wow. . ."

Jesse smiled broadly. It was like he knew that this, of all mornings, would be the most breathtaking views of all eternity, and had chosen last night precisely to return, just to be here to share it with me.

Everything was perfect. At that particular moment, not a damn thing could go wrong. My shoulder stung, and my throat and lungs were sore and achy from the coughing and drowning and whatnot. . . but life right then was absolutely sublime. Like the past half-year was just erased with the end of a number-two pencil—all the pain, the devastation, the crushing heartache, gone.

The only thing that kind of put a damper on the current romantic mood was the fact that my nose was running like a marathoner, and I didn't have anything to stop it. If Jesse were to kiss me again, I didn't exactly want it to be like that one scene in "The Young and the Restless" when Victor kissed Hope and there was that string of snot between them when he pulled away. I mean, that's something you'd think the editors would airbrush out, or have a retake, or something. It really killed the mood.

I needed a tissue, and badly. It's not like I had a sleeve, or anything, for this emergency. So I just sat there, sniffling every few seconds in order to prevent a rather un-charming and gross event from taking place.

"A new day, querida. I could not imagine a greater way to begin it."

Aww, Jesse. Leave it to a nineteenth-century rancher to drop a romantic bomb when I'm sitting here pondering my nasal mucous. I smiled.

We sat there in comfortable silence for a few more moments, until I felt a sneeze coming. I don't get sick much, but I do know that sneezes plus runny noses usually equal a mess of unpleasant goop spewing out in a rather undignified way.

"I'll be right back," I said. "Just gonna sneak in and get a tissue quick."

Sneak in. To my own house.

Oh, welcome back, Suze. Welcome back to your fantastical life.

I climbed in through the window—it was shut, but opened relatively easily since it wasn't latched—and swung over the window seat. I took a deep breath, absorbing the serenity I was feeling, and nearly skipped into the bathroom. Everything was so familiar, so comfortable, yet so amazingly different at the same time.

I cleared out my nasal passages, and used the "facilities" as well. Hey, I figured it was going to be a long walk back to school—might as well use a toilet while you've got one.

"Suze?"

I froze.

Busted.

My voice was small from the bathroom. "Um. . . no?"

"Suze, it's just me, David. You can come out," he whispered.

I did, only to be greeted by a flaming red ball of hair in my face, and two arms wrapped around me like the Jaws of Life. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Nice to see you too, David."

"What are you doing back?" he ventured, not seeming at all disturbed that I was soaking wet as he released me. Then, he saw my shoulder, which was matted with a nice display of dried blood, and my face, which was probably a little swollen from the abuse I had taken earlier that day. "Oh," he realized. "Business?"

I smiled in spite of myself. "You could say that."

Then, he scrutinized me a little closer. "You're different," he noted. "You're. . . I don't know. Happy."

I looked away, trying unsuccessfully to hide my stupefied grin. "Yeah," I sighed. "You could say that, too." I gazed longing out the window, where Jesse was still sitting, staring off at the sunrise, which was slowly reaching higher into the morning sky.

"He's back, isn't he?"

This time I didn't bother trying to mask my smile. And it was all the answer David needed.

"Hey, Dave! Breakfast, come on! What's taking you so long?" came Andy's voice from the staircase. It must have been around 6:30am, almost 7, and the remainder of the family was getting ready for work and school.

"You'd better go, before they find you and start the interrogation," Dave said in a hushed voice. I nodded, and turned away with a final smile toward my youngest, and favorite, stepbrother.

I didn't make it to the window, though. Before I could prop my leg up on the edge, David threw his arms around me again, in a big bear-hug. "It was good to see you again, Suze. I miss you."

My eyes almost began to tear. I patted him on the head, which was getting closer and closer to level with mine. In just the few months I've been gone, David seemed to have grown, and not just physically. There was something about him. . . something that just seemed more. . . mature.

"I miss you too. I'll be back again soon, I'm sure."

And with that, I hopped back out the window.

"Hey, Suze?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you come back, try not to smell so much like fish."

---------------------------------

More to come soon, once I work out this writer's block that I'm coming across mid-way through chapter 13. I guess it really is an unlucky number. And the fact that I haven't touched this story since like, February probably has something to do with it, too.

And when I say "soon," that really means "anytime within the next year," knowing me. So I apologize if I don't get it out until 2006! It's my last year of college and finals are fast approaching, and unfortunately they have to take precedence over fun things, considering I'm paying $17,000 out of pocket to get this education.

Review and make me sure I haven't been forgotten about!

2005 by Carolyn


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